“A life leaving traces after death . . .
a blessing we extol with every breath.”
__by Poet
So many years ago my parents passed,
each leaving well before considered old.
And so, for them, my sorrow yearned at last
to know that they live on, as scriptures hold.
At their two graves, I stood and wept goodbyes
and then each night prayed long for God to say
that they were safe with Him in Heaven's skies;
please have them show me in their special way.
My prayers were answered by a dream she sent.
Dear Mom, with twinkling eyes, threw me a kiss.
Then, forming hugs with arms embraced, she went
among the clouds, assuring me her bliss.
Years later, when my Dad had passed away,
a rose upon his coffin ended strife;
by chance, within a book was placed to lay
upon some words that proved Eternal Life.
Two loved ones leaving traces after death!
This filled my heart with comfort through the years.
And now, I hold the truths displayed in depth;
so thankful that these answers dried my tears.
A most delicious sound that I love the most,
Is the pat-of-butter scratch on morning toast!
My daughter, my created blessing,
you are a gift I never could have made alone.
From the very first moment I held you,
I knew my heart had found its greatest treasure.
My unconditional love
is yours forever—no conditions, no limits.
It does not fade with time or distance.
It simply grows stronger with every year.
You will always be my baby,
no matter the age.
Whether you are small enough to fit in my arms
or tall enough to stand on your own,
that truth never changes.
I am always your home.
You are always welcome.
Come with your laughter or your tears.
Come with your victories or your quiet worries.
This door stays open. This heart stays ready.
Very grateful to God for the gift
that is you.
Every day I thank Him for the chance
to love you, guide you, and watch you bloom.
Wherever life takes you,
this love stays the same.
You will always have a place to return to—
safe, warm, and full of the love that began the day
you became my created blessing.
No one lies awake at night,
wondering where I am,
or why I haven't called.
No one fears losing me.
No restless heart waits,
To hear my voice.
No one notices the silence,
When I'm gone.
I was never the place
Someone was afraid to lose
Or wanted to be
Never home.
I could disappear quietly
And their world keep turning.
My chair empty
My name unspoken
Maybe eventually--
Someone wouldn't even remember
Someone was once there.
The cruelest part isn't being left behind.
It's realizing that...
No one would notice
I was never there to begin with.
So I sat smaller
Quieter
Easily forgotten
A shadow
The heart no one longs for
An absence
Even before I am gone.
He wore a smile as smooth
as Glass
While promises slipped
through like Class
His words were honey,
sweet and Bright
But hid the shadows in the
Night
He kept two names inside
his Heart
And gave his vows to
someone Apart
The house was warm, the
air was Still
Yet every corner felt so
Chill
I traced the lies along the
Wall
And watched the vows
begin to Fall
Now silence answers when I
Call
And I am learning to stand
Tall
She noticed her son flinched at her touch
Mommy, why does Daddy yell so much?
Your father works hard for us, and his days are long
But he yells all the time – what did I do wrong?
We need to try hard not to make him mad today
Okay, Mommy, I'll try really, really hard, and I’ll pray
Flavours of grey, brown,
and green.
Heavy , thick cottons
hanging by threat
of lightning,
waiting calmly
before an incredible
downpour and
thunderstorms.
As it sweeps through
cracks and soil,
covering every
pitfall.
Careful car rides
through roads,
not wanting to be part
of mechanical disaster.
Scent of wet mud,
a sign from afar,
and afterward,
leftover effect.
Doesn’t know between
city and empty lands
as wind passes through.
But dust moves free
in the emptiness
of no tree or homes,
rises high and,
like a crazy predator ,
sinks its teeth
into every surface,
covering all.
And allergy and
cleaning floors
are its aftereffect.
Dew-covered,
lush leaves
are better than
humans’ case .
As roots drink like
a thirsty man in desert,
or the chore of bringing
fresh bread from
bakery in mid-afternoon.
No Halloween celebration,
but cleaning companies.
No pumpkins,
but dust and storms.
Yet we love it all—
our motherland,
Sudan .
A skull
A cup
A mug
A house of ribs,
No heart
No lungs.
Crooked serifs,
Fall like teeth.
No name that fits,
And no room to breathe.
Fingers,
Pinch the tongue—
That couldn't speak.
As every word runs away,
Scampering on little feet.
Oh.....
Look there goes my ghost.
Out here on the street.
~Kynsie~
Ruby leaves yield to snow flurries and
footsteps compressing pale ground.
I wander,
unintentionally pressing crescent shaped scars of fingernails
into my palm.
White remains in the reflections of store fronts;
they are mirrors, a silent introspection of my vagabond depravity.
When I come to the end of my journey, and they roll me out on that cold, hard, gurney,
Just remember, I’m not there, for Jesus met me in the air.
He gave me a robe of white to wear.
But then I saw a book open to the letter P and Jesus said, come look and see.
I wasn’t worried because I believe that Jesus Christ died for me.
But oh no to my surprise, I couldn’t find my name inside.
He laughed, and then he said to me, that’s not the book of Life you see, it’s the book of those who’ve rejected me.
Now I’m not allowed to tell you who, and no, we don’t come back as ghosts to warn you.
But time is short, so get it right, I hope it’s not your time tonight!
Message:
God gave us a free will to choose
See you in paradise!
I experience reality from my own Perspective.
If I had not existed to experience reality from my perspective I would not have experienced it at all.
Who can see if not me?
Who am I if not me?
can we be who we chose to be
Or are we known as who we thought we have been?
who am I if not me?
can I be who I want to be?
am I free or am I me?
Who am I if not I am me?
I am who I experience myself to be?
my experience is dependent on my own perception of reality from my own Perspective.
We dance singing songs of Love.
sinister dreams of wild death.
I saw him preaching the Gospel after the Rapture.
Harvey Levin preached the good news in my dreams.
very strange that I woke up made a video talking about it.
Harvey Levin a tribulation Saint wild dream.
Praise Jesus forever.
Thank you Jesus forever.
The Stove Smoked
Did you think this wheel would remain stuck in the pit?
The door that had been closed for 46 years has opened.
If my Lord wills, all doors open.
The stove that was stranded on a September day,
Smoked on another September.
The stove smoked!
Mehmet Keçeci, 30.09.2022
We have no need of the highland pastures in autumn.
Livestock is brought in; crops are harvested in autumn.
As always, we celebrate with feasting, song and dance in autumn.
Our youth are abandoning traditions such as that in autumn.
Will they not miss Fairy Meadow’s splendor and snow-capped peaks in autumn?
Lahore lures them away from our village; a loss we deeply feel in autumn.
The outside world is changing like the color of our leaves each autumn.
It tries to change us too, yet we still welcome you to our home in autumn.
Nothing can be finer
Than to sit in a recliner
When you’re reading.
Though this may be minor,
Not each furniture designer
Thinks you’re needing
Comfort for your tootsies
When you stretch your feet.
Horizontal footsies
Make relaxing complete.
Ottomans will let ‘ya
Put your feet up, too, I betcha,
When you’re streaming.
Don’t let nothing sweat ‘ya,
For an ottoman will get ‘ya
Close to beaming.
You don’t need an empire,
Just a living room space
To get unwound within your own place.
Nothing’s really finer
Than a foot rest or recliner
To start dreaming.
Home Categories
Read wonderful home poetry on the following sub-topics:
away from, coming, daughter, farewell, funny, going, haiku, heart, home sweet, love, moving away, new, nursing, welcome
and more.
Definition | What is Home in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
apartment, cabin, condo, condominium, cottage, country, dormitory, dwelling, familiar, family, farm, hometown, hospital, house, household, hut, land, mansion, national, native, neighborhood, palace, place, residence, resort, shelter, trailer